


Rattled

by SLWalker



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Twin Suns AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 06:01:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12858297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLWalker/pseuds/SLWalker
Summary: Kenobi and Maul sit out a sweep by Imperial Forces.





	Rattled

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadowmaat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowmaat/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Twin Suns: Altered Destiny](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10410672) by [shadowmaat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowmaat/pseuds/shadowmaat). 



> This timeline belongs to shadowmaat, I'm just playing with it. <3

Kenobi’s teeth were chattering.

Outside, the frigid desert air shifted around the sands of the Jundland Wastes; inside, the temperature kept falling and falling to reflect it. Occasionally, the old metal of what was left of this wreck’s cargo hold creaked, but no rust had eaten away its structural integrity, so if nothing else, there was no danger of it collapsing.

Being buried in sand, perhaps, but not collapsing.

The Empire’s presence on Tatooine was relative scarce, but not altogether nonexistent. All it took was the wrong combination of rumors to send a detachment of extremely bored Stormtroopers to comb the desert for rebel activity that they didn’t even believe existed. Still, given that both Maul and Kenobi were not the typical types found, they had retreated to one of Kenobi’s many ratholes to wait out the sweep; with the homestead’s lights doused and the signs of life quickly and expertly hidden, it would take quite some work to figure out that Kenobi’s hut in the desert was presently occupied.

Which just left them. Maul was cold himself, but it was easier to keep half a body warm than it was a whole one; these old legs the Mandalorians had fitted him with near two decades ago were simple, but quite tough and durable and more than capable of handling the cold temperatures.

His body ached, though. What was left of it. His shoulder, his back. The most recent lightsaber wound tingled, though at least didn’t throb.

Maul was well used to pain. He could tune it out.

Kenobi’s rattling teeth, on the other hand–

“For as many robes as you wear, you would think you’d be comfortable,” he commented, on the quiet side, mostly for the fact that there was something unsettling about the echo of sound around the wreck’s cargo hold.

“I’m afraid I’m not as hearty as I used to be,” Kenobi answered, a vague shadow huddled into all of the fabric he had wrapped around himself.

His tone was a patient one; there was little sign of the snappish, sarcastic general that Kenobi had been during the war, where it seemed some pithy comment jumped out of his mouth at the least provocation. It continually confused Maul, and had him paranoid, though even he had to admit that his paranoia had been fading as Kenobi continued to maintain that same patience. He was not sure the _source_ of it – the damage they had done to one another through their lives was no small thing – but he was becoming accustomed to it, anyway.

Age had not changed Maul much outwardly; thinned him some, made him leaner and more wiry, that of him which _could_ change, but his skin remained smooth and his senses sharp. It was in his bones that he felt the time; weariness, often. Aches. Kenobi wore his on his skin, a battlefield of careworn lines, his formerly coppery hair turned white. He was young enough that it should not have been, if Maul was guessing correctly.

He wondered if it was the death of the Jedi. Maul was surprised to find that the purge had given him little satisfaction; he could feel it, too, when it happened but it only left him feeling rather empty. His purpose – his only real purpose, looking back – had been to fight and kill Jedi. Not as a large-scale weapon of blunt, overwhelming power, but as a warrior; precise and skilled.

Kenobi’s teeth chattered briefly harder; even in the dark, his huddled form was quaking. Nevertheless, he asked, “Are you all right?”

There was some strange sense of one another, these days. Maybe in a galaxy where those sensitive to the Force were largely extinguished, like called to like.

“Fine. Cold, sore.” Maul half-shrugged, ignoring the stiff shoulder. He wasn’t sure why Kenobi cared enough to ask, but there was no point to refusing to answer it.

Both of them were too old for such nonsense.

Kenobi gave something of a nod from under the shadow of his hood. And after a moment’s more contemplation, Maul edged over that way. He told himself that it was purely sensible, a pragmatic solution to keep Kenobi from continuing to rattle like that, or becoming too hypothermic to make it through the night, but even Maul knew that excuse was thin.

The Jedi eyed him for a moment, confused, just his eyes reflecting in the incredibly scant light coming through the cracks in the wreck’s superstructure. But he didn’t move away, and he didn’t protest when Maul took off his cloak and covered both of them in something of a tent, taking away even the last of the light.

Except that which existed where it wouldn’t be seen anyway.

It took time for the makeshift shelter, if it could even be called that, to warm up. Pressed shoulder to shoulder in the dark of it, it went from being distantly miserable to bearable, and slowly the Jedi’s shivering went intermittent, then ceased. “Thank you,” he said, quietly.

Maul just closed his eyes and didn’t answer.


End file.
